RE: PH joins the Fire Dept: PH Blog

RE: PH joins the Fire Dept: PH Blog

Wednesday 30th March
PH joins the Fire Dept: PH Blog
Does the childhood fascination with fire engines ever wear off?

Does the childhood fascination with fire engines ever wear off? Ask a big kid...

I realise tyre kicking some fire engines is a little off piste for a PH blog. But I'll work on the basis - call it a hope - you also maintain the sense of awe and excitement a big red truck with sirens and flashing lights on it can inspire. Indeed, one of the joys of parenthood is I can still point and shout 'ooh look, fire engine!', though it pays to make sure the Maxi Cosi is actually occupied before doing this to avoid embarrassment in front of more grown-up passengers.Anyway, long and the short of it is our JLR drivers for the New York show last week were all local fire fighters, which was good because, Range Rover or not, you need a certain steeliness to survive driving around Manhattan. The chaps all had good banter too, making light work of even the most tedious traffic jam en route to the show. And having confessed admiration for American fire engines a plan was hatched to drop by the firehouse of Al, my designated driver for the trip back to JFK airport. This then escalated a tad.

First things first, here or in New York the men and women doing the job are all heroes and I'm not about to claim any nation's firefighters are better than another's. A big red truck with flashing blue lights - even one called Dennis - is an exciting thing. It just happens that the ones in New York happen to be bigger, redder and have even more flashing lights.

The romanticised illusion of everything in America being somehow bigger, flasher and more exciting than the stuff back home is one reality will often shatter. But in the case of theit survives intact. And on the pretext of wanting some photos for the kids I readily accepted the invitation to call by Al's firehouse, home toand based on East 29th St between 2nd and 3rd Avenue and not far from the Empire State Building. Ritual humiliation was served when it was suggested I try all the gear on, the way it hung off me suggesting I'm perhaps not as powerfully built as the average New York firefighter. Thankfully they spared me the 15-minute fitness test that would have proved this conclusively.

Thewere as big, bold and exotic looking as I'd hoped. Inside they felt more like military vehicles, breathing apparatus incorporated into seat backs to strap into en route to a call, accommodation cramped among kit and controls and all of it built tough. The guys I met were unfailingly polite, passionate about their work and happy to show me around, even though I was probably rather less appealing company than the limo loads of bachelorettes that are an occupational hazard in central Manhattan.

For all the fun the reminder of the dangers of the work all firefighters face was never far away though, a roll call of those killed in the line of duty taking the form of plaques on the wall by the door. Centre stage was the duty board from that day back in September 2001 - six men crewing Ladder 7 from this firehouse alone were killed among 343 in total from FDNY. Odd that it takes a localised example like that to get a sense of an event so huge but it really brought it home to me quite how large it looms in the city's recent history. Respect due and all that.

Dan